


It's About Time

by BubbleGumLizard



Series: Mystrade NaNoWriMo 2015 [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Adultery, Divorce, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 03:24:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5148476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BubbleGumLizard/pseuds/BubbleGumLizard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg Lestrade meets Mycroft Holmes and falls slowly, inexorably in love.  There's only one problem: both of them are already married.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's About Time

**Author's Note:**

> Whoo, story number three for NaNoWriMo. I'm writing faster than I've ever written in my life; I'm just about to hit 20K words. Hopefully I'll have a good burst of writing energy tomorrow and get up story number four.
> 
> Now, about this story: I generally hate adultery and stories that contain it. I tried to ensure that our boys were as good as possible, so please don't judge them too harshly. I hope everyone enjoys this one! Thanks for reading!

The first time Greg met Mycroft Holmes, Greg had just met a very strange young man who had helped to solve a murder case. It had been a particularly difficult case and a tall, thin man had come forward as a witness, solving the whole thing in a matter of minutes. It was awfully suspicious, but the evidence proved exactly what the man had claimed, so Greg had given him a card and told him to call if he ever wanted a job. That night, Greg was abducted and driven to a warehouse where he was met by an equally strange man wearing a very nice suit.

While he was yelling at said strange man for his condescension and presumptions, the man made a biting, sarcastic comment. At that moment, the oddness of the situation hit Greg and he started giggling, for reasons that he would never be able to put into words. After a moment of Greg giggling like a maniac and the suited man staring at him, the other man began to laugh as well. Soon, the two of them were standing alone in a warehouse, laughing like old friends.

"He's my brother," the man said finally, wiping his eyes. "My name's Mycroft. I worry about him."

"I can understand. he seems like a bloody lunatic," Greg said sympathetically.

They parted ways as friends, a surprising ending to a very surprising few days.

The next time they met, Greg and his wife had just had a very public row in a restaurant. They walked outside to get a cab home and Greg's phoned chimed his text alert.

**Fancy another kidnapping? MH**

Greg glanced at his wife, still fuming from the fight. 

**Please. GL**

"Work," Greg explained to his wife, who was looking at his phone suspiciously.

Moments later, a black car pulled up and the back window rolled down to show Mycroft, with a very serious look on his face. "Ah, Detective Inspector Lestrade. I am afraid that I must insist you come with me."

"It's going to be a late one, it looks like," Greg said to his wife, shrugging apologetically as she glared.

Greg climbed into thee car before she could argue with him an d slumped into the seat as it drove off, relieved. "I was informed that things were tense at dinner, I thought I might save you," Mycroft said with a smile.

"So you're watching me?" Greg asked, a little surprised.

"Well, you have engaged my brother several times in the last few months. I thought it would be prudent to keep an eye on you."

“So you’re spying on me,” Greg said with a smile.

Mycroft inclined his head in assent. “I apologize for the intrusion.”

“No, no. Thank you for getting me out of there. So, where are we going?”

“At first I thought a pub, but then I realized that might be risky. So your choice. My office or a pub.”

“Office is probably wiser. Thanks, mate,” Greg said, feeling like he was grinning like a fool, but unable to stop himself.

They reached a nondescript office building and Greg followed Mycroft inside. It seemed like any other boring building, except for extreme security that seemed to be everywhere. Mycroft’s office was richly decorated and had a roaring fire with two chairs next to it.

“Would you like a drink?” Mycroft asked, gesturing to a side board covered in decanters.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” Greg said, unsure how to proceed in a situation like this. Greg wasn’t exactly what one might call “posh.”

Mycroft smiled, looking at Greg as if he knew exactly what he was thinking. “Brandy, then. Have a seat.”

“Are you normally working this late?” Greg asked, glancing at his watch.

Mycroft nodded. “Usually. My work has very demanding hours.”

“And your wife doesn’t mind?”

“My husband has never been thrilled with my hours, but he married me despite them.”

“I have a feeling that you understand what public fighting is like,” Greg said glumly, looking into his glass.

“Unfortunately, yes. I have had my share of public disagreements. We seem to be in a good stretch, however.”

“Then why are you here having a drink with me?” Greg asked curiously. “Not that I mind.”

Mycroft shrugged. “I have very few friends and I enjoyed spending time with you the last time we met. When my staff informed me of your incident, I thought perhaps a drink was in order.”

“Well, I really appreciate it. If I had gone home, the fight was sure to continue. If I went out after, the fight was sure to continue. Really, no matter what I did, the fight was going to continue. This little ruse was a very clever way to get me out of trouble. And she’ll forget by tomorrow what the problem was.”

“May I inquire as to the nature of the problem?”

Greg sighed and rolled his eyes. “The same old thing. I missed some dinner party she’s been planning because of work. There was a murder investigation that I needed to attend. There wasn’t much that I was able to do to make the dinner party.”

“It seems like we are in similar positions regarding our spouses and work,” Mycroft said with an exasperated sigh.

“I don’t understand why she can’t accept that my work keeps me away from her and at odd hours. We’ve been married for fifteen years, you would think that she could deal with it by now.”

“I’ve been married for nearly twenty years and he has never understood that my job takes up most of my time. I only have a few minutes of the day to devote to pursuits of pleasure. I do not enjoy using that time to have an argument,” Mycroft commiserated.

They talked late into the night: by the time Mycroft took Greg home, it was nearly three in the morning. His wife was asleep, so he quickly climbed in next to her, falling asleep almost immediately.

***

**Last night was fun. Feel like doing it again sometime? GL**

**I enjoyed myself as well. Shall we say Friday at 6:00? I can pick you up at work and treat you to dinner. MH**

**Sounds great! I’ll see you then. GL**

By the time Friday arrived, Greg couldn’t wait to see Mycroft. His week had been terrible, including three more fights with his wife over silly things. When Mycroft picked him up, he was irritable and annoyed at everything.

“You look like some sort of libation is in order,” Mycroft said drily.

“I love when you talk like a posh git,” Greg said with a smile. “No one actually talks like that, you know.”

“I know plenty of people who speak as I do.”

“Other posh gits?”

Mycroft tried to suppress his smile and failed. “Maybe.”

“So where are you taking me tonight?”

“A little restaurant I visit when I want to get away from everything.”

Greg looked Mycroft up and down, suddenly realizing the flaw in this plan. Mycroft was a particularly well-dressed man and Greg mostly looked like a charity had given a homeless man some clothes for a job interview. When he looked back at Mycroft’s face, he was smiling with a twinkle in his eyes.

“You are not underdressed, Greg. It is not a ‘posh’ restaurant.”

“How do you and Sherlock do that?” Greg asked. “He can read my mind too. I wish I could do that sometimes.”

“Sherlock would tell you that we observe, as if it is something that is entirely in our control. Unfortunately, we have both always been able to process information in such a way that allows us to anticipate what people are thinking. And knowing what someone is thinking is not the same as understanding why they are thinking that, so unfortunately, it doesn’t help me in my relationship with my husband.”

Greg sighed. “You can read bloody minds and your marriage is full of fights, I don’t stand a chance.”

“Not every marriage is like that, Greg. My parents have been happily married for nearly fifty years. Neither of them can read people like Sherlock and I do. They just found the right partner.”

“I’m afraid that I didn’t,” Greg murmured, looking down at his hands. He was briefly embarrassed, until Mycroft reached over and squeezed his hand comfortingly. 

Greg looked up and Mycroft smiled. “I sometimes feel that way as well.”

“Thank you,” Greg said as the car slowed to a stop.

They went into the restaurant, which was a nice, low-key Italian restaurant. It was quiet, but not so dark that it only attracted couples. They were shown to a table and sat down and shared a bottle of wine that Mycroft ordered.

“What did you tell your husband you were doing tonight?” Greg asked.

“I saw no reason to lie. I am allowed to have a friend,” Mycroft told him. “Did you lie to your wife?”

Greg shrugged. “No. She had plans with some friends tonight anyway, so I don’t think she is particularly bothered with my plans for the evening.”

“Why did you think I might lie?”

“I didn’t exactly think you would lie. I just wondered how you would tell him you were going out with another man for a meal. I don’t know how it works when it’s two men, but I don’t think I would be happy if my wife were having dinner with a man.”

“I have never been the jealous type,” Mycroft said with a shrug. “To be honest, he was less than pleased that I was spending my time with you and not him.”

Greg felt a stab of pleasure that Mycroft was spending time with him instead of his husband. He wondered where it came from and what it meant. Pushing the feeling away, he tried to keep his face neutral so that Mycroft wouldn’t guess what he was thinking. When he looked up, Mycroft was giving him a curious look, but he didn’t say anything. 

When they had finished dinner, Greg and Mycroft strolled out of the restaurant. The car didn’t appear right away, making Greg wonder why, until Mycroft let out a sigh. “Fancy a walk? I have been strongly encouraged to take at least one night off a week and my interest in returning home is minimal.”

Greg grinned. “We aren’t that far from my house, if you want to walk that way. My wife won’t be home.”

Mycroft nodded. “Very well. Lead the way, Greg.”

They started walking side by side and Greg had a sudden impulse to grab Mycroft’s hand. You’re married, you idiot, he told himself, clenching his hand into a fist to avoid doing something silly. It wasn’t very long until they reached Greg’s house, where he invited Mycroft in to share a (much lower quality) bottle of wine.

When Greg’s wife arrived home, Mycroft and Greg were sitting on the couch next to each other, laughing. “Good evening,” she said, looking the two of them.

“Evening, dear,” Greg said, barely looking at her. He was watching Mycroft laugh.

“I’m Karen Lestrade,” she said, holding her hand out to Mycroft, who had stopped laughing rather suddenly.

“Mycroft Holmes,” he said in his normal, formal voice, standing up and smoothing his suit.

“Holmes? Like that man that keeps working with you, Greg?” she asked.

“His brother. I’m sure I told you that,” Greg said, standing up as well. He clapped Mycroft on the back with a grin. “Thanks for dinner, mate. Let me show you out.”

Mycoft nodded goodbye at Karen and followed Greg to the door. “I will speak with you soon, Greg. Thank you for the wine.”

When Greg returned to the living room, Karen was giving him a strange look. “That’s who you wanted to spend your night with instead of me?”

“Why not? He’s a fun bloke.”

“And I’m your wife. You should want to spend time with me.” Greg could tell where this was going, so he decided to skip to the end and dropped onto the couch, lying down and rolling over so his back was to Karen.

“I don’t feel like actually having the fight tonight, so I’m going to give it a miss and just go to sleep,” he told her.

She stood there for a moment and then made a frustrated noise and stormed out of the room.

Later that night, Greg got a text.

**Great time tonight. Can’t wait for the next time. MH**

**You and me both. Things are pretty tense here. GL**

**For me, too. Sleeping in the spare room tonight. MH**

**I have the couch. Wish we had a spare. GL**

**We have several. If you’d ever like one, let me know. MH**

**Ta, mate. Don’t be surprised if I take you up on that offer. GL**

**Go to sleep. Talk tomorrow. MH**

**Sweet dreams. GL**

**The sweetest, tonight. MH**

Greg stared at that last message for a long time. It almost seemed as if Mycroft were flirting with him. There had been many points in the night where it had seemed like a date, like they were heading towards something that shouldn’t happen. Greg wasn’t sure what to do about it: he had too much integrity to cheat, but what he was doing felt sickeningly close to cheating. It wasn’t, though. Mycroft was a man and Greg wasn’t gay. They were friends, that was all.

When he fell asleep, Greg dreamed of leaving his house and going to Mycroft’s house, which was a mansion. The two of them got lost in it together and decided to live out their days alone together. When Greg woke up, he was disappointed that it had been a dream.

***

Things were busy for Greg for a while. There was a string of murders that had him working nearly round the clock. The day that the murderer was finally caught and behind bars, Greg went home for a quick nap before getting back to the office to work on the paperwork.

“You’re just going to sleep?” Karen asked, following him into the bedroom. “How about spending some time with me?”

Greg blinked at her. “Karen, I have to be at work in three hours. I don’t have time to spend time with you. If I get everything done at work, I will be home at the usual time.”

“What ‘usual time’? You’re always working late!” She was starting to shout now, so Greg just ignored her and fell into bed.

When his work was nearly finished that day, he thought longingly of his bed and then remembered the fight that was waiting for him at home. The next day was Saturday and things were wrapped up, so he wasn’t expected to be at work.

**Fancy a drink? MH**

The text alert startled him, but he was grateful for the message. He texted back an agreement and hurried to finish his work so he could meet Mycroft.

“How in the bloody world did you know that I needed a drink tonight?” Greg asked as he sat in Mycroft’s car.

Mycroft smiled. “I heard that you caught him. Sherlock told me that you were in quite a state this morning, so I assumed that things did not go well when you arrived home after the arrest.”

“You’re a genius.” Greg dropped his head to the side against the seat, dangerously close to Mycroft’s shoulder.

“I am, but this is from experience, not brilliance. I have been in your position many times.”

“Why do we put up with this?” Greg asked, feeling himself start to doze off. 

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” he heard Mycroft say quietly. As he dozed off, he was sure that he felt something press against his cheek, as if Mycroft had touched him.

When Greg awoke, the car had stopped. Mycroft was sitting next to him on a computer. “Do you feel better?” he asked with a smile.

“Much, thanks,” Greg said, stretching as well as he was able in the car. “Where are we?”

“My home. I thought if you still wanted a drink, we can have one here, or if you would like to sleep, I can offer you one of my spare rooms.”

“A drink would be great,” Greg said with a smile.

Greg was surprised by Mycroft’s house. It was a beautiful upscale flat, nothing like the palace that Greg had been imagining. Mycroft gave him a tour. It was decorated in a modern style and looked like it was straight out of a magazine.

“Gareth is interested in decorating as a hobby,” Mycroft said as Greg looked around. “We’ll be in my study,” he said, pointing into a room.

Greg followed him in to a room that looked like it was in a different house. It was decorated in a more classic style, just like Mycroft’s office.

Greg smiled, sitting in a chair and accepting the drink that Mycroft offered. “I suppose Sherlock filled you in on the details of the case?”

“He did, but I would enjoy hearing your perspective. Sherlock’s view of events aren’t always…” he trailed off, waving his hand.

Greg laughed. He launched into an explanation of the events of the past few weeks, during which he had barely spoken to Mycroft. When he finished, Mycroft gave him a fresh perspective on the evidence, causing Greg to write some notes down for himself to work on when he returned to the office.

Conversation about work over, they moved on to other things. Greg found himself telling Mycroft things that he had never told anyone before, things that he hadn’t thought about since his childhood. Mycroft seemed to be opening up quite a bit as well, telling him all about a childhood spent reading and studying, trying to teach Sherlock to deal with other people.

Eventually, Greg dozed off mid-sentence and was awoken by Mycroft. “Come, let’s get you to a bed.”

“I have to tell Karen where I am,” Greg mumbled.

“I took the liberty of texting her. She said to keep you here, that she was not interested in seeing you at home.”

Greg sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. “Where’s the bed you mentioned?”

***

Greg was slightly nervous the next day when he woke up and made his way to the kitchen. “Good morning,” Mycroft said with a smile. He was sitting at the table with a cup of tea and a paper, next to an extremely good-looking man. “Greg, this is Gareth, Gareth, Greg.”

“So you’re the man who has taken away my Mycroft’s attention,” Gareth said to Greg with what seemed to be a very forced smile.

Greg smiled as well as he could and held out a hand to shake. “Thank you for allowing me a place to sleep,” he said to the two of them. “I should be getting home. That fight with the wife isn’t going to have itself, you know.”

“I am going that way, I shall give you a ride,” Mycroft said, standing.

“You’ve been to his house?” Gareth asked a little too sharply.

“You knew about that,” Mycroft reminded him coldly.

“Yes, I suppose I did. Well, it was nice to meet you, George,” Gareth said, returning his attention to his breakfast.

“Greg,” Mycroft corrected and left without another word.

Greg followed, feeling very uncomfortable. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause trouble for you.”

“I am the one who should be apologizing to you,” Mycroft said. “You should not be caught in the middle of my relationship troubles. Gareth’s attitude has nothing to do with you.”

When they arrived at Greg’s house, he reached out and took Mycroft’s hand without thinking about it. He squeezed firmly, smiling at Mycroft and locking eyes with him. “Thank you for saving me last night. I really needed it. I don’t know what I would have done if I had gone home and had that fight.”

“If you ever need a savior, I’m here,” Mycroft said. He lifted their joined hands and pressed Greg’s hands to his lips, his eyes never leaving Greg’s. “If you need anything, simply let me know, day or night.”

Greg nodded and left the car, feeling very confused. There was very little chance that he was mistaking Mycroft’s meaning: he was flirting. Greg’s hand seemed to burn where Mycroft’s lips had been, sending a thrill of pleasure up his arm.

When he went into the house, Karen didn’t appear to be home. Grateful for the silence, he went into the bathroom. He avoided looking at himself in the mirror, afraid of seeing this new Greg, who would consider having any kind of relationship. He pressed his hand to his lips where Mycroft had kissed it, closing his eyes and imagining that he could kiss Mycroft.

He stripped and went into the shower, taking his thickening erection into hand. He closed his eyes and leaned against the wall, bringing himself off hard and fast. He tried to remain as silent as possible, but he couldn’t help a breathless moan of “Mycroft”. 

When he finished his shower and returned to the bedroom, Karen was there. If she had heard anything while he was in the shower, she didn’t say. In fact, she didn’t say anything, she just ignored Greg.

***

Karen ignored Greg for three days. He finally had some time off to spend with her and she spent it in silence when they were in the house together. Then she left with no word of where she went and when she planned to return. Greg didn’t particularly care that she wasn’t there, he had other things to worry about, namely Sherlock Holmes.

During a very strange case of serial suicides, during which Greg made a complete arse of himself at a press conference (with Sherlock’s help), Sherlock suddenly showed up to the crime scene with a friend, who he introduced as John Watson.

After the first time Greg met John, Greg called Mycroft.

“Did you know that Sherlock has a friend?” Greg asked without preamble.

“What? Sherlock does not have friends. He has never had a friend,” Mycroft said, sounding surprised.

“John Watson. They just left. Sherlock brought him to a crime scene.”

“John Watson?”

“Doctor John Watson.”

“Hm. I apologize, but I have pressing business to which I must attend,” Mycroft said suddenly.

“You’re going to kidnap him, aren’t you?”

“Of course not. Why would I do such a thing?” Mycroft sounded like he was smiling and Greg chuckled.

“Don’t scare off Sherlock’s only friend. Have fun.”

Much later, Greg watched Sherlock, John, Mycroft, and Anthea as they stood around outside a crime scene, where John Watson had just shot a murderer. As John and Sherlock walked away cheerfully, Greg wandered over to Mycroft.

“So, did you find out all of his dirty secrets? Who is he?” Greg asked, smiling at Mycroft.

“Sherlock’s friend,” Mycroft said. “There are some things, but with his history, it makes perfect sense that he is friends with Sherlock.”

“Tell me all about it over drinks on Friday?” Greg asked. “Come over to mine at the usual time?”

Mycroft nodded, flashing him a smile before climbing into his car. Greg watched the car drive off, wishing he were inside it, going home with Mycroft. He sighed and reluctantly walked back to the crime scene, anxiously anticipating drinks on Friday.

***

When Mycroft arrived on Friday, he looked around curiously as he walked in. “Why hasn’t Karen been here in a week?” he asked.

Greg opened his mouth to say the lie that he had been practicing in the mirror, but he shut it again and sighed, looking down at the floor.

“Oh, Greg. I am so sorry,” Mycroft said, reaching out and putting his hand on Greg’s arm.

“She’ll come back,” Greg said with confidence that he didn’t feel. He handed Mycroft a drink. “So, tell me about John Watson.”

Later, they were sitting on the couch together as usual, laughing. Greg was doubled over with laughter. When he looked up, he realized that he was very close to Mycroft. His breath caught in his throat and he couldn’t help but look at Mycroft’s mouth.  Of course, Mycroft saw the gesture. He hesitated for a moment and then leaned in, kissing Greg gently.

Greg began to kiss back and then realized what he was doing. He threw himself backwards, bringing his hand up to touch his lips. “You’re married. I’m married,” he said, wishing with every fiber of his being that he didn’t care about things like that.

Mycroft nodded. “Quite right. It would be wrong.” His eyes raked over Greg’s body, sending a chill through Greg.

“Very wrong,” Greg agreed, feeling his cock start to harden.

“I should go,” Mycroft said stiffly, standing.

Greg stood to see him out, hoping Mycroft didn’t notice the awkward bulge in his trousers. Of course, Mycroft’s eyes immediately saw the offending bulge. He licked his lips, staring at Greg hungrily and Greg realized that Mycroft had a matching bulge. Greg groaned and threw himself at Mycroft, kissing him hungrily.

Mycroft rolled his hips, moaning at the contact. Greg moaned in reply: it had been so long since he had had sex that he was sure he would explode with any more contact. Luckily, Mycroft quickly remembered himself and pulled away, breathing heavily.

“Please leave,” Greg said, not looking at him. He wasn’t sure that if he looked at Mycroft he would be able to control himself, so he continued looking at the wall until he heard the sound of Mycroft leaving.

Greg didn't know what to do about what had happened. He was conflicted: he had invested half of his life in his marriage, he couldn't imagine his life without it. Not only that, but he didn't want to be responsible for breaking up a marriage. He knew that

Mycroft was invested in his marriage as well and he didn't think he would be able to live with himself if he did anything to hurt that relationship.

**I apologize for last night. It was inappropriate. I do not want to ruin our friendship. MH**

The text came early in the morning, while Greg was lying in bed, thinking about what he was going to do.

**I'm sorry too. I didn't mean to make an arse of myself. GL**

**You are upset about Karen, it is reasonable to assume that you might reach out for comfort. I did not intend to take advantage of that. Again, I apologize. MH**

**Mycroft, stop apologizing. It is forgotten. We're fine. GL**

Greg got up and got into the shower, still thinking about the previous night. No matter what he might tell Mycroft, it wasn't forgotten. There was no way he could forget the way Mycroft looked at him like he wanted him, the feel of those soft lips on his, and the feel of that hard length pressed into his hip. He didn't even try to control his volume as he wanked in the shower, pulling himself off with a speed he hadn't attained since he was eighteen.

When he got out of the shower, Karen was sitting in the bedroom. She looked up at him and Greg knew that she had heard his shout of "Mycroft" as he came.

"Karen, I..."

She shook her head, stood up, and left. Greg slumped against the wall, feeling like the situation couldn't get worse.

***

Of course, the situation did get worse. He didn't hear from Mycroft for the next two months. During that time he texted his friend at least a dozen times and received no response. He did, however, receive an invitation to attend marriage counseling with Karen. He agreed, attending the sessions faithfully. Things on that front seemed to be getting better, but kept coming back to Greg masturbating while thinking about his friend, a man.

Eventually, in March, Greg heard from Mycroft.

**I just do not know what to do about Sherlock. Or Gareth. Everything seems to be falling apart. MH**

Greg was surprised to receive the text, but he didn't want to ruin it by questioning why it came so suddenly. He sent the most supportive text he could back, hoping that the friendship was returning to normal.

**Sherlock seems like he's doing well, to me. John is good for him. I can't speak to how things are with Gareth, but if it's anything like my marriage, good luck. GL**

**I miss our friendship. MH**

**Then let's get back to it. Drinks on Friday? GL**

**Yes, please. The pub, normal time? MH**

**Sounds good. GL**

Karen wasn't happy that Greg was going out with Mycroft, but Greg ignored her. He had a right to spend time with his friend, whether Karen thought Greg was in love with him or not.

When Greg arrived at the pub early, he wasn't too surprised to see that Mycroft was already there. He grinned as he sat down. "Nervous?" he asked quietly.

Mycroft nodded. "Very. How did you guess?"

"I am, too. I suppose that is to be expected. Things might be pretty awkward."

"Well, we're both adults. This is nothing we can't handle," Mycroft said, though he still looked incredibly nervous. 

Greg bought them a round of drinks, hoping that they would be able to put everything that had happened behind them and return to the friendship that they had previously enjoyed. 

Drinking appeared to work wonders for their nervousness. Around the third drink, things started to feel very normal. Greg confided in Mycroft about the marriage counseling (of course leaving out the frequency with which Karen accused him of being in love with Mycroft) and Mycroft complained about the sharp downturn that his marriage had taken.

"He keeps saying the most ridiculous things," Mycroft said with a sigh.

"Like?" Greg asked, draining his glass.

"He accuses me of affairs nearly every day. I don't know who I'm supposed to have shagged today."

Greg sighed. He didn't want to point out that he and Mycroft had kissed, which wasn't precisely remaining faithful to his husband. "Have you considered counseling?"

"Because that's working so well for you?" Mycroft asked with a grin.

"What are you doing here, with him?" an angry voice said and Greg looked up to see Gareth standing there, staring at the two of them.

"Having a drink," Mycroft said, his voice suddenly cold. "I informed you of my whereabouts this evening."

"You didn't tell me that you'd be with him," Gareth said, scowling.

"Is there a problem with him being with me?" Greg asked, feeling like he was being accused of something.

"Well, you clearly want him," Gareth pointed out.

"I'm married, mate," Greg said.

"Are you still calling yourself married? I heard that your wife hasn't lived with you in months."

Greg turned to look at Mycroft, unhappy with the knowledge that his relationship problems had been a topic of conversation between Mycroft and Gareth. Mycroft looked like he wanted to say something, but Greg didn't give him a chance. He stood, nodding at Gareth, and left.

Greg walked home, feeling miserable. He wasn't sure what to do about the situation with Mycroft. He could honestly say that he had never enjoyed spending time with anyone as much as he enjoyed spending time with Mycroft, but spending time with Mycroft seemed to hurt so many people. He wasn't sure if he could stand to be constantly hurting people like that. When he arrived home, he spent nearly an hour typing and retyping the perfect text to get his feelings out.

**I really value your friendship and I don't want to lose you as a friend, but it might be best if we confine our friendship to text messages from now on. GL**

It didn't take long for Mycroft to respond: Greg wasn't sure if he was happy about that.

**If that's what you think is best. MH**

***

Life once again settled into an easy rhythm. Greg worked, sometimes with Sherlock, and returned home, where he sat around and waited for his wife to come home. He spend a good portion of each day texting with Mycroft, but they never spoke of anything too serious or inappropriate and Greg showed all of the texts to Karen whenever she asked, at the suggestion of their therapist. It was so long before anything happened that Greg was blindsided by it.

One night, there was a knock on Greg's door. He opened it to find Mycroft standing on his doorstep, tears in his eyes. Greg pulled Mycroft in, steering him towards the living room while sending Karen a text that Mycroft was there, upset about something, and that he wasn't going to turn his friend away. After a few moments, during which Greg made some tea, he received a response that she didn't mind as long as Greg was "careful".

"What happened?" Greg asked, sitting down next to Mycroft and handing him a cup of tea. When he realized how badly Mycroft was shaking, he took the cup of tea back and set it down.

"Gareth left," Mycroft said with great difficulty.

"Well, that doesn't mean that things are over. Karen and I have been in counseling for over six months and things are getting so much better," Greg said, trying to sound comforting.

Mycroft pulled something out of his jacket, holding it out to Greg. It was divorce papers: signed, completed papers. "They came today."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Greg asked, shocked. This had to have been happening for some time for it to be finalized already.

"Things were awkward. I didn't want to lose you, too, by talking about it."

"Oh, Mycroft," Greg said quietly, looking over the papers in his hands. "You wouldn't lose me because you need help getting through your divorce. I'll always be here for you when you need something like that." Greg was hurt that Mycroft thought that seeking comfort during his divorce would have ruined the relationship: was Greg really so terrible that something like that seemed possible?

Mycroft put his face in his hands. It wasn't until his shoulders started shaking that Greg realized he was crying. He put his arm around Mycroft's shoulders, pulling him close and holding him tightly.

The door opened and Karen walked in, pausing in the doorway and frowning when she saw how they were sitting. Greg pointed at the papers, which he had set down to hold Mycroft. She picked them up, her eyes widening when she realized what they were.

She nodded and went into the kitchen, where Greg was sure she started cleaning up his mess.

Mycroft sat in Greg's arms for at least twenty minutes, crying silently. When he straightened up, he wiped his eyes and smiled weakly at Greg. "Thank you," he said quietly.

"Any time, mate," Greg said, smiling back. "I'm here if you need me."

Mycroft didn't stay very much longer. When he left, Greg's heart ached. Greg wanted to hold him the whole night, making his pain go away by being there for him. He settled for sending one last text message before bed, hoping that it cheered Mycroft at least a little.

**You will always have me as a friend, no matter what. You're stuck with me now, you'll never get rid of me. GL**

The response, when it came, made Greg smile with the pure Mycroft-ness of it.

**Thank you. I, of course, reciprocate the feeling.  MH**

***

They continued as they had been, with a few more meetings, usually in Greg's house with Karen in the kitchen, where she could hear everything they were saying. At some point, Karen stopped asking to read Greg's text messages. If Greg could point to a time when everything went to hell, that was it. It later embarrassed him that he clearly needed a babysitter, but he wasn't sure that it wouldn't have happened if Karen was still monitoring their texts.

**I miss sleeping with someone. MH**

**What? I'm sure you could find someone at a club... GL**

**I mean literal sleep, Greg. I miss the intimacy of sharing a bed. Also, do you really picture me visiting a club? M**

**I suppose not. I miss the other type of sleeping with someone more. It's been a very long time for little Greg. G**

**"Little Greg"? You nicknamed it? M**

**Haven't you? They grow when you talk to them, you know. M**

**That's plants. M**

**Mine grows when you talk to me. G**

A response was slow in coming, and Greg was nervous that he had made a mistake. He wasn't sure why he had sent the text, but he was immediately sure that it had been a mistake.

**Tell me more about little Greg. M**

**Well, right now he's thinking about you and growing quite a bit. I may have to remove the trousers to accommodate him. G**

**I have already been forced to remove mine. It was getting uncomfortable. Now I am requiring a bit of a massage. M**

Greg stood and took off his trousers, sitting back down in his chair, leaning back, and thinking about Mycroft, masturbating to thoughts of Greg. The image in his head was unbearably sexy.

**I would help, if I were there and able. I wish I were there. I would give almost anything. Stroking myself now, thinking about being there with you. G**

**I wish you were here, too. If you were here, I would suck you off. I'm imagining your giant cock in my mouth. M**

Greg groaned, increasing the speed of his hand, imagining that Mycroft was kneeling in front of him.

**That's so hot. I want to hear you say things like that. Your sexy mouth saying filthy things would bring me off in no time. G**

Greg was surprised by his phone ringing. He answered it, to hear Mycroft panting on the other end of the line.

"I'm so close, Greg," Mycroft growled.

Greg gasped at how sexy Mycroft's voice was, deep and primal as he touched himself. "Ah, Mycroft," he said, too distracted to say anything else.

"I like when you say my name like that. I've always liked you saying my name, but hearing you say it now, full of lust, cock in your hand, it makes me want to come right over there and listen to you say my name while you fuck me."

"Mycroft, where did--oh god--where did this come from?"

"Oh, I've had fantasies about you fucking me for months, nearly since we first met. Every time I shower, I bring myself off while thinking about you burying yourself in me, thrusting so hard, making me come so hard, all over the place."

Greg came suddenly, shouting Mycroft's name. Shortly after, Greg heard Mycroft groan Greg's name and then sigh contentedly.

"That was amazing," Mycroft said quietly.

"It would have been better in person," Greg lamented.

"Perhaps. But you are trying to make your marriage work. What we just did might be forgivable, but doing it in person certainly wouldn't be." Mycroft sighed heavily. "We shall not do this again. It was merely a one-time lapse in judgment."

"I want to be with you," Greg said softly.

"You want to be with your wife. Do not confuse me for her," Mycroft said and hung the phone up.

***

For once, Mycroft was wrong about something: they did do it again. They didn't always end up on the phone, but they began sending each other dirty texts nearly every day, to which Greg almost always ended up masturbating. When he thought about it he felt guilty, but he rarely allowed himself to think about it. At the end of every conversation like that, he felt a surge of affection for Mycroft, wishing they could be together and that they could cuddle afterward, while Greg whispered sweet things in Mycroft's ear.

The first time they saw each other after they started masturbating while virtually together, Greg and Karen were walking to dinner and they ran into Mycroft. Greg thought that perhaps it might be awkward to see each other, but it wasn't. Greg smiled his normal, friendly smile, but Mycroft simply nodded a greeting, reaching out to shake hands with Karen. She made some sympathetic, friendly comment about the divorce, and they moved on. Greg couldn't help glancing over his shoulder at Mycroft. He nearly stopped walking when he saw that Mycroft hadn't moved and was instead standing with his head bowed.

When Karen told Greg that she was going to move back in with him, Greg was elated until he realized that he would have to stop the strange things that were happening with Mycroft. Since they normally spoke over text now, Greg decided that's how he should let Mycroft know.

**Karen's moving back in. That changes things. I'm sorry. GL**

**I understand. Congratulations. MH**

Greg stared at the text for what seemed like forever, wondering what it meant. Did Mycroft not care? He certainly didn't seem upset in the text, but text wasn't always a good way to tell emotions and Mycroft didn't usually show a lot of emotions anyway. He decided to try and put it out of his mind and focus on Karen: that's what this had all been about after all, right?

***

Sherlock's words ran through his head for roughly the millionth time since he had said it. Karen was sleeping with a PE teacher. Sherlock was seldom wrong, there's no reason to think that he was wrong now. Greg rushed home, nearly running.

When Greg burst into the house, Karen was in the bedroom, packing for their trip.

"How was your party?" she asked cheerfully.

"Are you sleeping with a PE teacher?" he asked.

She blinked at him. "No, why...? Oh, sod it. Yes, I am." She sighed and passed her hand over her eyes, looking exhausted. "I've tried to end it, but I can't stay away from him."

"That's great!" Greg said, sounding a bit more excited than he intended.

"What?" she asked, looking at him suspiciously,

"I've been sexting Mycroft for the last month. I have so desperately wanted him. And now I can have him."

"What? But what about our marriage and Dorset?" She looked extremely confused, which didn't make sense to Greg: everything was suddenly very clear to him.

"Take your boyfriend. I'm done with this. We can't keep cheating on her and I've been miserable since you've been back. We're done. Don't worry, though. I'm leaving. You can have the house. I'll come back for my things." He turned and quickly left the room.

As he approached Mycroft's new house, which he had only visited once, he realized that he was being a bit presumptuous. There was nothing to say that Mycroft would want him there or would want to pursue a relationship. What if he had only been interested because of the danger of having a relationship with a married man? Greg put those thoughts out of his head and pushed on, knocking on the door eagerly.

"Greg? What's wrong?" Mycroft asked when he opened the door.

Greg realized that it was Christmas Eve, perhaps not the best time to show up on someone's door. "Are you alone?" he asked. Mycroft nodded and stepped out of the way, gesturing Greg inside. Greg bounded in excitedly, smiling at Mycroft.

"What is it?" Mycroft asked, looking miserable.

"This," Greg said, pulling Mycroft to him and kissing him soft and slow. "I love you, Mycroft Holmes."

Mycroft pulled away slightly, giving Greg a questioning look. "Karen?"

"Having her own affair. There's no reason to keep trying. It's over. It's been over. It was over the first time I met you, when I fell in love."

"You haven't loved me since then," Mycroft said skeptically.

"I really have. I've loved you since you just sat there and let me yell at you, muttering sarcastic comments. I should have let myself be happy then. We would have saved so much time."

"Well, you're here now," Mycroft said happily, leaning in and kissing Greg with a passion that Greg hadn't felt in years, pressing their bodies together so that they could feel each other's erections.

"Take me to bed," Greg begged.

"I've been waiting to hear you say that for so long," Mycroft told him in the sexy voice that turned Greg on the most. "It's about time."


End file.
